Home Wrecker

Houston, Texas.
Sofitel Hotel.
At the bar in the lounge, sitting with the VP of marketing, Marlene Stewart.
That was where my career changed.
We were having drinks. Me a Cosmopolitan. Marlene—white wine. We were in Houston attending the fashion show of one of the country’s hottest female rappers—XXXstacy. Like P. Diddy, Jay Z, and other rappers with huge followings, XXXstacy decided to expand her tiny empire and step into the world of fashion. She didn’t design shit, but with her name, XXXstacy Wear was destined to blow up.
Some top people at LeVor received insider information about XXXstacy’s desire to get into fashion, and with relentless pursuit, the company managed to work out a deal with XXXstacy that would be beneficial to both sides.
Houston was XXXstacy’s hometown, so it was naturally the site for the premier showing. I’d designed some and approved many of what the public was going to see. Marlene had been responsible for the buzz. Countless hours put in, XXXstacy Wear was more our baby than XXXstacy’s herself. After one-too-many last minute meetings, we were in the lounge winding down before the big showing the next day.
Marlene was an attractive, older, white female in her mid-forties that could have easily passed for being in her mid-thirties. She was an obsessive woman. Obsessive about her work. Obsessive about her body. Obsessive about her husband.
“Fucking asshole.” Marlene snapped her cell phone shut.
I looked at her, but didn’t say anything. That had been the fifth time in the past seven minutes that she’d done that. I took a sip of my Cosmo and waited for her to curse again.
“Fucking asshole. He’s probably fucking her right now.” Marlene angrily passed her hand through her shoulder-length brown hair.
I took another sip of my drink, blotted the corner of my mouth with my thumb and index finger, and said, “Why don’t you just divorce him?”
Marlene frowned. “And deal with the scrutiny from friends and family? No thank you.”
“But he’s fucking his secretary.”
As I said that, a man sitting on the stool beside Marlene, looked in our direction. I told him to mind his business with my eyes. He got up and left.
Marlene sipped her wine and gave an irritated smile. “Yes he is. Unfortunately I’ve never been able to prove that.”
“No emails? No text messages?”
“No secret love notes. Nothing.”
“So how do you know for certain that he’s fucking her?”
Marlene gave me a come-on-now look. “You know as a woman we just know. Besides, I can smell her pussy on him whenever he’s been with her. It’s kind of tart, like maybe she only cleans it once a day.”
I wrinkled my nose. “That’s nasty.”
“She’s nasty. The skinny bitch. Smiling in my face whenever I see her, as if she’s really pulling something over on me. Pathetic.”
“Maybe she’s smiling because she knows you know,” I said, raising my eyebrows.
“Then she’s a skinny, pathetic, arrogant bitch for thinking her inexperienced pussy is that good.”
I took a sip of Cosmo again and nodded. “Inexperienced or not Marlene, it must be something to have your husband swimming in it.”
Marlene looked at me. My honesty had stung. She flipped open her cell again.
“Why are you calling him?”
Marlene hit the talk button to send the call. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice filled with frustration.
I frowned. Shook my head. I never understood why women did that. Stressed over a man.
“Fucking asshole.” Marlene slammed her phone down on the bar counter.
“Why did you marry him, Marlene?”
“You’ve seen him. Thirty, a face as pretty as Brad Pitt, a body as delicious as the Rock’s.”
“So he’s attractive. That can’t be the only reason you married him.”
Marlene looked at me, then down at her phone and sighed. “He can fuck.”
“What?”
“I said, he can fuck.”
I spit out a little of the Cosmo I’d been drinking at the time and laughed. “Are you serious? That’s why you married him?”
Marlene passed her hand through her hair again. Something she did when she was aggravated. “I’ve been married twice before, Lisette, to men who were my age and were on my level, both mentally and financially. They were nice, decent men. Good conversationalist. Driven. Had good credit. Pretty much what you’d want in a man.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “So what was the problem?”
“For all of the good qualities they had, there was one problem. A major problem.”
“Let me guess…they couldn’t fuck.”
“They had dicks, but had no clue about how to use them.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’m serious, Lisette! They were so unfamiliar with their own tool, that I spent too many damn nights taking care of myself after they were supposed to. It was frustrating. Eventually I got tired of fucking myself and started fucking other men. My first husband caught me cheating. That’s why the marriage ended. I divorced my second husband before he could catch me.”
I laughed again, finished off my Cosmo, and cued the bartender with my index finger for another. “So Steve put it on you huh?”
“Steve fucks like he invented it. I met him at the gym. He used to pursue me daily. At first I used to brush him off. I mean, I’m almost fifty. I couldn’t possibly mess with a man fifteen years my junior, right?”
“But you did.”
“He was persistent. Always approaching me with his sexy ways, and his sexy pretty boy smile. Always ready with the compliments. I finally gave in one day, and agreed to go out with him to dinner. I figured what was the harm. It was just dinner.”
“I’m guessing it turned into a long dinner and an early breakfast.”
Marlene closed her eyes briefly. I could tell that she was reminiscing. “Lisette,” she said, opening them, “I didn’t plan on sleeping with him that night, but with the alcohol, his looks, and the fact that it had been months since I’d had any, we ended up going back to my place.”
“And you were ready to marry him the next day, right?”
Marlene finished her wine, did the same finger motion to the bartender, and said, “Trust me….if you fucked Steve, you’d be hooked too.”
I closed my eyes a bit. “I doubt that.”
“Steve’s good, honey. Damn good.”
“And now the secretary is getting some.”
“Yes. The bitch.”
“And instead of having to hear any crap about being divorced for a third time, you’re calling him practically every five minutes?”
Closing her cell again, Marlene said, “Yes. I don’t need to hear the shit from anyone. I don’t want to deal with the judgmental stares. Of all of my friends and family, I’m the one who can’t keep a man.”
“Have you tried catching him in the act?”
“Of course. Surprise visits to his office. I’ve come home a day or days early from business trips.”
“And you’ve never caught him?”
“Never.”
“But he comes home smelling like tart pussy?”
“Yes.”
The bartender brought our drinks and flashed us a smile. He was an attractive brother with an athletic build. Watching his muscles flex, I wondered if he could fuck the way Marlene said Steve could. I stopped wondering when he walked over to a man sitting three bar stools down from us and gave him just too much attention.
Always the good looking ones.
I looked back at Marlene. She was a mess. Attractive. Fit. Successful. Yet she was irritated and jealous because a man she knew she was too good for, was giving her dick away.
I took a swallow of my fresh Cosmo. “Why don’t you just set him up?”
“Excuse me?”
“Set him up. Hire a hooker to fuck him.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s wrong.”
“You could have been in an accident and that’s why you’re calling him constantly. Isn’t it wrong that he’s ignoring your calls?”
Marlene didn’t answer.
I continued. “Isn’t it wrong that you’re emotionally stressed from the fact that the man you married is giving your dick away? The dick that he vowed would only be yours?”
Marlene looked at her phone, whispered, “Fucking asshole.”
“Forget a hooker,” I said. “A hooker’s not good enough. He can pass that off as a mistake. A one time lapse in judgment. He’s human. It wouldn’t happen again. What you need is a friend. A friend is much worse. She can say he’d been coming on to her behind your back. She can say that he’d promised to give her what he gives to you.”
“Lisette…are you serious?”
“Your friend can say that he’d threatened to flip the script by telling you that she was the one coming on to him. You wouldn’t take her word over his because he loves you. That’s what your friend can say, came from his mouth.”
“Lisette…”
“Do you have a friend that would do that?”
“Lisette…I…I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“Catch him in the act with someone you know, and your friends and family can’t say shit.”
“But…but…”
Marlene paused and fiddled with her glass.
“But what Marlene? Do you want to continue being unhappy?”
“No.”
“Do you want to continue playing second fiddle to tart-smelling pussy?”
“No,” Marlene said.
“Then set him up. Get someone that you trust.”
“But…but…”
“But what, Marlene?”
“But…I don’t have any friends that I trust like that.”
Silence overtook our conversation as Marlene watched me, watching her.
Set him up.
Set him up and no one could say shit.
That’s all she had to do to regain control.
I stared at her intensely. Marlene was a good woman. Honest and down-to-earth. Like any other woman, all she wanted was to be loved, respected, and to get some good dick. She didn’t deserve Steve’s shit.
“I’ll do it,” I said.
Marlene’s eyes widened. “What?”
“I’ll do it. I’ll set him up.”
“You?”
“Yes. He knows me. I’ve been to your house a few times. He’s had opportunities to come on to me.
“But Lisette…”
“Do you or do you not want out of this marriage?”
Marlene opened her mouth to protest, but instead dropped her chin to her chest, “Yes,” she said.
And there it was.
She wanted out.
I could make it happen.
That’s when my career changed.